


with the power of god and anime on his side

by SmittyJaws



Series: Ghost AU [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: (sort of), Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, John barely shows up in this, MY BAD FAM, Male-Female Friendship, a bunch of Vine references bc i love to shitpost, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmittyJaws/pseuds/SmittyJaws
Summary: Jay’s in a bad mood. Roger tries to help.





	with the power of god and anime on his side

**Author's Note:**

> More Ghost AU, and here I am, literally shitposting. Hehehehe XD
> 
> Warning for mentions of death and injuries, although the fact that this is a ghost AU should have kind of indicated that already.
> 
> Credit to [sweetestsight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestsight/pseuds/sweetestsight)'s great fic, [Secrets To Success For (After)Life With Roommates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937983/chapters/49778402) for getting me thinking about a ghost AU in the first place, and thanks to [mothmansupreme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmansupreme/pseuds/mothmansupreme) for putting up with me being like “YO WHY HAVE WE NEVER TALKED ABOUT A GHOST AU IN ALL OUR DISCUSSIONS OF ALT UNIVERSES?” and rolling with it. :P

“Jaaaaaay.” The voice was wheedling. “What have you done to my mirror?”

Jay frowned but didn’t become visible, opting to just mumble quietly. “Pissed off.”

“I can see that.” Roger started sweeping up the broken glass as best he could. “We talked about this, though. About you smashing my things.”

“I know.”

“Is there something the matter?”

Jay was thrown slightly. She’d expected a yelling match; voices raised as they bickered about whose room it actually was, her hang ups about being dead, about every little thing under the sun. Not this. Not Roger quietly sweeping up the mess and asking what was wrong. “… maybe. Yeah.”

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

Jay sighed. It had been a particularly long, trying day, but she didn’t feel like hashing it all out at the moment. She opted for the short answer. “Blanche. Thalia. They’re draining sometimes.”

Roger winced. “Yeah… I can see that.”

“Don’t tell them. I’m just tired,” Jay pleaded. “Couldn’t do more today. Sorry for the mess.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Roger finished sweeping up the glass, dumping it into the bin beside his desk. “Just, please, no more glass smashing? I’ll get you something else to destroy if you need, but I can’t keep replacing mirrors and such. Not to mention it’s dangerous.”

Jay was silent. Why would he do this? Why didn’t he just shout at her? It was easier when they fought; hide in her own self-righteousness at her emotions, push back against whatever he verbally (and occasionally physically) threw at her, and go sulk afterwards. Why would he be so understanding now?

“Because I know what it’s like to be angry and feel like you have no other options.”

Jay started; had she said something out loud? A glance over at the bed beside where Roger was standing revealed she’d been scribbling absently in her usual notebook, underlining that one sentence multiple times. “Oh. Sorry.” She snapped the notebook shut. “Didn’t want— sorry.”

Roger sighed. “Jay, please talk to me? You can’t hide forever.”

“Watch me.”

“Can’t do that if you’re invisible now, can I?”

Jay materialized just enough for Roger to see her rolling her eyes and blowing a raspberry before vanishing again. “Just… not a good time.”

“Alright. Then perhaps you’d be alright if I talked to you?” Roger tried. “Or played you something.”

“Drums aren’t here.” She knew she was being ornery at this point, but couldn’t muster the energy to care.

“You know I play guitar too.” Roger indicated the beat-up case in the corner. “You’re being pedantic, and that didn’t answer my question.”

“Why?” 

“Why answer the question? Because it’s good manners. _Not that you’d care about that._” The last part was added in a mutter.

“No. Why care? Why do this?” Jay materialized, making Roger jump at the realization that she was now standing directly beside him.

“Why not? What’s it cost me to be a decent person?” He shrugged and took a step back. “Also, don’t do that. Personal space.”

“Exactly. I’m rude. _‘Right bitchy asshole’_.” She made air quotes, and Roger looked away guiltily. “Yeah, I heard you. So… why?”

“Nobody’s that rude for no reason. And yeah, maybe that reason is ‘you’re just an asshole,’” he lowered his shades and looked at her pointedly, “but I think there’s more. Besides, Blanche and Thalia have nothing but nice things to say about you, so you can’t be all bad.” He folded his arms across his chest in satisfaction.

“_Nothing?_” Jay asked doubtfully. “Unlikely.”

“Well, they _did_ say you’ve got a temper, and get cranky in the mornings, despite the fact that you don’t actually need sleep anymore. Does that make you feel better?”

“Not really. Appreciate the honesty, though.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.” Another shrug. “But I’ll admit, I’ve been holding out on the real reason I’m nice.”

“You have?” Now it was Jay’s turn to cross her arms. She stared at him in suspicion. _What was he hiding?_

“I have. Wanna hear it?” Roger grinned.

“…okay.” _This couldn’t possibly end well._

“Alright. Just give me a sec, then.” Roger crossed the room, snagging his guitar case and opening it up on his bed, sitting on the edge as he began fiddling with it. Jay watched him incredulously.

“You’re… serenading me?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The grin didn’t dim, and Roger made a show of making sure the guitar was tuned properly, checking and double-checking some of the strings.

Jay sighed loudly, making sure her impatience was known. Roger just shushed her exaggeratedly in response, fussing with the tuning some more before playing an E chord, satisfied.

“You ready to hear why I’m nice to you? The real reason?” Roger wiggled his eyebrows.

“Uh. Maybe?” Jay was just confused by this point. What was he getting at?

Her question was answered a half second later by Roger’s chipper, “Great!” followed by a loud discordant strum and him declaring: “I LOVE YOU, BITCH.”

“What the—”

Another strum, and his eyes were twinkling in not-at-all-disguised glee at what he was subjecting Jay to. “I AIN’T GON’ NEVER STOP LOVING YOU… _**BITCH**_.”

There was a pause. Absolute dead silence (with the exception of John banging on the adjoining wall and telling Roger to keep the noise down). Then, Jay started to giggle.

She couldn’t help it; that was the single most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen Roger do, especially for her. “What… the… _fuck_!” she sputtered between laughs, trying to simultaneously cover her mouth to stifle her amusement and keep her head from rolling as her shoulders shook uncontrollably. “That was… oh my _God_.”

“Is that a request for me to play it again?” he asked cheekily, positioning his hand as if to strum. A chorus of John and Blanche’s voices through the wall called out a “don’t you _fucking_ dare”, but he ignored them in favour of continuing to grin at Jay.

The outburst from the other room just made everything so much funnier, and now Jay was howling in laughter, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. “Oh my… _fuck_, Rog. Dunno what to say. I needed that.”

“I noticed.” Roger made quick work of putting his guitar away again and sat back on the bed, patting the spot beside him in invitation as Jay continued to try and get her laughter under control. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that funny, can it?”

“I just…” Jay giggled again as she sat down. “Haven’t heard for ages. I miss Vine.”

“An absolute travesty, gone too soon.” Roger nodded solemnly. “Love the compilation videos, though. At least we still have those.”

“Haven’t watched in ages.” Jay shook her head. “Electronics don’t work.”

“But you can turn the telly on and off?”

“The telly’s older. Different type of tech.” A one-shouldered shrug, the other hand holding her head (mostly) in place. “That works. Phones and computers, no. So no Vine. Not for me.”

Roger clapped both hands to his cheeks in mock-horror. “Well, we can’t have that! Want to watch some?”

“Can we?” Jay asked excitedly. “It’d be a distraction.”

“Will you stop smashing my mirrors when you’re throwing a moody?”

“Yes.” If Jay had still been capable of blushing, she probably would have been comparable to a tomato at the moment. As it was, she faded slightly, making herself less visible for a brief moment. _Trust him to not forget your stupid move._ “Could get me paper?” She suggested. “For shredding. Or something else. Dunno.”

“That’s something, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” Roger nodded. “And now that that’s sorted… Vines? Got any favourites?”

“The duck army.” Jay grinned. “Um. The dad one.”

“The dad one?”

“You know. _‘You are my daaaaad’_,” Jay sang the line quietly, vanishing slightly in embarrassment again as Roger’s face lit up (though whether in recognition or because she’d actually attempted singing for the first time since, well… _The Incident_, who could say).

To her relief, Roger made no comment, and just continued on with “_‘You’re my dad!’_” and Jay felt comfortable enough to chime in at the end with him: “_‘Boogie woogie woogie!’_”

She erupted into giggles again, and Roger laughed too, so she mustn’t have done too badly if he was still having fun. “I think I can queue that one up for you.” He pulled up his phone and began searching for videos, Jay huddled up eagerly by his side.

True to his word, Roger kept her plied with a steady stream of videos to watch all evening, only pausing for his own breaks to use the loo or eat (though he ended up just bringing a sandwich back into the room with him rather than eating with the others; “to not keep you waiting,” he said through a mouthful of food). Jay made a face of disgust at his half-chewed bite of sandwich, but Roger merely smirked and started the video from where they’d left off.

Watching the videos was a definite wave of nostalgia, and Jay found herself wishing for the millionth time that she wasn’t dead. That she hadn’t missed out on the chance to actually have meaningful friendships and relationships because of her idiocy of not watching where she was stepping.

She knew she didn’t have the energy to put into making herself fully corporeal at the moment, but she wanted to at least make herself slightly more substantial. To feel like she was alive again, sort of. She could do that, right? Just a little, and hold out until Roger eventually went to bed? Worth a try, anyway.

She made an effort to focus, and felt herself solidifying somewhat; not enough to be fully there, but enough to be able to carefully lean against Roger (even if her shoulder and arm did kind of sink through his). He started slightly at the unexpected weight, but didn’t complain; he just shifted the way he was sitting, making himself more comfortable as he let Jay continue to partially lean on him.

It was nice, but bittersweet. It wasn’t the real thing, and it was hard to try and lose herself in the memory of what it was like to sit with a good-looking guy (that she did _not_ have a crush on, thanks) and enjoy company when her shoulder was half embedded in Roger’s own and her head refused to sit straight. She sighed in frustration, trying to keep her annoyance quiet, but Roger still managed to pick up on it anyway. “You alright?”

She wasn’t pouting, she wasn’t pouting… “Being a ghost sucks. Having wobbly head sucks. Can’t do anything fun.” 

…okay, maybe she was pouting _a little_. But who could blame her?

Roger didn’t, which was nice. Just looked at her thoughtfully before making a suggestion: “Why not lie down, then? Your head can’t wobble if it’s lying still.”

Huh. Jay couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that herself. That said, she hadn’t planned on being so forward as to ask for something that would require them to lie together… that was a little too bold for her. But Roger had suggested it, so maybe it was alright?

She lowered herself down further onto the bed, adjusting her head when she finally got to the pillow. Roger just shuffled himself to get into position, flopping his head down gracelessly onto his pillow and sending strands of his hair flying into Jay’s face (some of them literally _into_ her face). She sputtered and pushed his hair away as best she could, Roger snickering at her annoyance.

They watched a few more videos after that, migrating from Vine to old episodes of Whose Line UK, before Roger started yawning. He tried to hide them, but it was obvious he was tired. Jay was also feeling the effects of staying a bit more corporeal, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

When Roger eventually plugged in his phone and called it quits, Jay sat up carefully, considering her options. She had planned to go off and sequester herself in a dark corner of the house for the rest of the night. Maybe sit by a window and watch the moon. She didn’t particularly want to speak to Blanche or Thalia just yet, so she’d just need to avoid them all night (which shouldn’t be too hard of a feat - Thalia was probably sitting by Brian’s bedside reading or watching Bob Ross episodes, and Blanche was probably invisibly watching over John as he slept).

Sometimes Jay envied their easy connections; John and Blanche had known each other for years, and Brian and Thalia had just somehow gotten along effortlessly. Meanwhile here she was, constantly arguing and unable to express anything coherently except by writing (but that didn’t count). She’d never be able to have a full, flowing conversation the way the others could - even as Blanche spat out mud and dirt periodically while she spoke, she was still far more eloquent than Jay could ever be anymore. Just another thing that was unfair. Another reason why she was so angry with her lot in death. Another reason for no one to like her— “Jay?” Roger’s voice raised in warning. “You’re doing it again.”

Jay snapped out of her thoughts to realize Roger’s phone and glasses case were rattling on the nightstand, as well as the Jack Kerouac book resting beside them. “Fuck. Sorry.” She calmed herself down and forced the items to stop shaking. “I should go. Sorry.”

“Thoughts too loud?” Roger sat back down beside her, and now it was Jay’s turn to be startled as she realized that he’d gotten himself completely ready for bed in the time she’d been drowning in self-pity.

“Sort of. My own issues, though. You should sleep.” She waved him off, trying to ignore the frown that appeared on his face at that.

“You know,” he began, voice more hesitant than Jay had ever heard in the entire time since he’d moved in, “I dunno whatever it is you do at night while we’re all sleeping, but you’re welcome to stay here. If you want, that is. Read a book or something.” He indicated the one on the nightstand. “This one’s good, if you’re interested.”

“Maybe.” Jay didn’t tend to like reading at night; too many neighbours got frowny when lights were left on overnight, and it was too dark otherwise. “Doesn’t usually help me. Sorry.”

“Oh, sorry. I just thought it might do you some good. Maybe you’d be less smashy if you got yourself out of your head.” Roger looked apologetic, and Jay felt bad. He was _trying_, at least, which was more than most people who’d ever spoken to her post-death did.

“You meant well. It’s alright.” She reached down to pat his hand comfortingly… only to be slightly surprised when Roger turned his hand face up to meet hers, gently taking hold of her wrist the best he could and… holding her hand?

“Or you could stay here? Lie with me again?” His voice was soft, a hint of something there that Jay wasn’t sure how to interpret. The thought was tempting; stay with Roger and enjoy his company and work out her rage and frustrations later on, or go do it tonight instead of later and not bother anyone? She looked down at their joined hands, back up to his quietly pleading eyes, and back down at their hands again before making her decision.

She focused a bit more, making her body less substantial but her hand held in Roger’s almost as fully corporeal as possible. She squeezed his hand gently in hers, smiling shyly at his look of shock. “Yeah. Think I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also @smittyjaws on Tumblr, if you want to hit up my dumpster fire of a blog!


End file.
